


Squeaky Green Voices

by snapeslittleblackbuttons



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 19:17:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10883238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snapeslittleblackbuttons/pseuds/snapeslittleblackbuttons
Summary: Neville has created another potions catastrophe, but this time, it's affecting everyone's hearing--and Ron's ability to eat lunch. Written for the 2017 Platform 9 3/4 Magical Mishaps Challenge.





	Squeaky Green Voices

“Hermione.”

Harry’s comically-loud whisper made her want to roll her eyes. Hard.

Hermione glanced up from her cauldron and shook her head at him. _No_ , she was not going to whisper loudly across the Potions classroom so Professor Snape and everyone in class could hear her every word, thank-you-very-much. She turned her attention back to her work. Professor Snape had assigned her Chelidonium Miniscula to brew; it was a fussy potion and it required painstaking diligence for it to come out correctly. She didn’t have time for the boys and their ludicrous theories right now.

“Hermione!”

She looked up and shook her head more violently this time. Was Harry daft? Blind? Or simply too stubborn to wait until after class?

Glancing to her right, she realized she’d left Neville on his own for a moment. Her struggling lab-table partner was looking around blankly like he’d forgotten why he was in the Potions classroom in the first place. _Damn. Looks like I’m going to have to help him…right after I add the chopped Motherwort…_

Lately, helping Neville had become a bit trickier. Last month, Professor Snape had changed the in-class assignments so that now, she and Neville were only table partners instead of lab partners: they shared a table, but each of them brewed a different potion. To top it all off, Professor Snape always made sure the brewing instructions for her potion were decidedly…complex.

Needless to say, she was thankful she had her own cauldron.

_“HERMIONE!”_

That was it. She was going to _kill_ Harry James Potter long before You-Know-Who ever got the chance.

_Fine_. She wasn’t getting any work done anyway.

She motioned for Harry to come over. She might be inviting the interruption to come closer, but there was _no way_ she was going to leave her potion at this critical moment. Besides, if Professor Snape was in a bad enough mood, he’d flay anyone who dared to walk away from their cauldron this late during brewing. It wasn’t going to be her, thank-you-very-much. Not because Harry was being stupid.

Hermione watched as Harry looked around for Professor Snape, and, seeing he was deep in conversation on the other side of the room with one Draco Malfoy, he snuck over to her. Ron followed.

Both of them? How much more obvious could they be?

Once again, Hermione struggled not to roll her eyes.

“What was so important that it couldn’t wait until after class?” she huffed, crossing her arms in annoyance.

From behind her, she heard Neville’s chair scrape along the slate classroom floor. Hermione swung around to discover Neville on his knees, sorting through various pieces of parchment.

He looked up at her, his eyes full of dread. “I knocked them off by accident. Sorry,” he mumbled.

_Gods_ , she was surrounded by idiots.

“I saw Snape talking to Malfoy, right after breakfast in the hall by Charms. I think they’re planning something. Something big,” Harry said, his eyes bright. Ron nodded from behind Harry, encouraging Hermione to agree.

“ _That’s_ what you came over here to tell me?”

“It fits what I’ve been saying all along about Malfoy. Something’s up with Snape. I’m telling you—“

From the right of Hermione came a squeak. She turned to find Neville with his mouth open in surprise and the colour draining from his face. Oblivious to Neville’s panic, Harry rambled on. “Look, Snape’s talking to Malfoy again right now.”

“Just a second, Harry.” Hermione said over her shoulder. “Neville, what’s wrong?”

“I just remembered that I already added the Motherwort, but I’m sure the recipe called for whole leaves, not chopped ones.”

Hermione glanced down at the parchment in Neville’s hands. “These are _my_ notes. _My_ assignment, Neville. Wait, have you been using the wrong instructions since you picked up the parchments off the floor?”

“Eh, maybe?” he said. “I’m not sure…?”

“Brilliant.”

She took a step closer to Neville and peered into his cauldron. Suddenly, it emitted a green mist. It smelled deliciously like cut grass.

“What’s that?” Ron said, peering around Harry and taking a step closer himself. “Not like mine. Smells wonderful.”

Harry said, “Yeah, it’s great. Neville, is that yours?”

“I think it might be.”

And then the scent vanished.

Professor Snape chose that moment to saunter over to Hermione’s lab table. He looked into Neville’s cauldron disdainfully.  

“Mr Longbottom, the results of your efforts are abysmal, as usual,” Snape drawled. “Ten points from Gryffindor.” Snape turned his back on them and started to walk away. “See me in my office tomorrow to redo your assignment.”

o0o0o

The early spring day was unusually warm, beckoning Harry, Ron, and Hermione out of the castle and onto the grounds for the free hour after Potions. They made their way to the lake.

Halfway around, Hermione asked, “Mind if we stop here for a little while?” She indicated a bench in the shade of a great oak. “You can tell me all about what you think Professor Snape is planning with Malfoy.”

Ron strolled to the water’s edge and practiced skipping stones across the surface of the lake.

“Sure,” Harry said, sitting down on the grass, and leaning back on his hands. “Hey, did you…did you guys just hear something? Like someone speaking?”

“Harry, you know you have to do your best to block You-Know-Who’s thoughts—” Hermione began.

“Did it sound like a snake? Is there a snake around? Maybe it was Parseltongue—” Ron said from a few feet away.

“No and _no_ ,” Harry said, cutting across them. “A smaller voice, almost…squeaky.”

“Squeaky?” Hermione asked.

“It’s never good to hear voices,” Ron added, most unhelpfully.

“Thanks, Ron,” Harry said tightly. “There it is again.” Harry looked around.

“What did the voice say?” Hermione asked.

“Ouch.”

“You okay, mate?” Ron asked over his shoulder.

“No. I mean, _yes_. I’m fine. The _voice_ said, ‘Ouch’.”

“The squeaky voice said ‘Ouch’?” Ron asked. “Is The Ferret nearby? Could’ve been him.”

“Ron, _really_ ,” Hermione said, this time, giving in to her desire to roll her eyes.

“’Mione, Harry’s hearing voices again. Just trying to keep things light, in case, you know, he’s gone barking.”

“I’ve not, _you know_ , gone barking.”

“Ron, you’re no help at all,” Hermione said. She started to unpack her rucksack on the bench, creating a teetering pile of homework that anyone else would have found intimidating.

“You won’t say that once you find out whose voice he’s hearing now,” Ron said, turning to look at Hermione and smirking significantly.

“And whose voice is that?” Hermione said.

“Hello? Guys? I’m right here. You know, the person that’s hearing voices can also hear you talking about him.” Harry got up from the ground. “Wait. The voices are gone.”

Hermione’s tower of textbooks lost balance and went careening onto the lawn. She huffed impatiently.

“Let me…” Harry bent over to pick up one of the books, his hand brushing the grass. “There it is again!”

“What did it say this time?” Ron said while he searched for another smooth stone among the piles at the water’s edge.

“It said, ‘Ouch! I’m crushed! Help me!’”

“You don’t think—” Hermione began.

“What?”

“You don’t think the grass is talking to you? Do you?”

“Barking,” Ron called over his shoulder. “You’re both barking.”

“Maybe.” Harry walked over to a nearby oak and slowly laid his hand on the bark. “I think the tree is humming.” He cocked his head to the side. “No, not humming. Singing.”

“Harry, I think you can hear plants—but only when you touch them.”

“That’s…well, that’s…”

“Okay,” Ron said, leaving the water’s edge. “But now I’m hearing a voices that are saying, ‘It’s lunch time’. What do you think, mate? Can we grab some lunch? You don’t hear voices inside the castle, right?”

o0o0o

“Fine. So Harry’s hearing the little blades of grass speak. And trees. That’s not so bad. Could be worse,” Ron said in a voice that was only slightly shaky.

“Could be worse?” Hermione said, her voice raising a pitch. She reached for the pumpkin juice and poured herself a glass. “Harry is hearing grass speak and ‘it could be worse’?”

“My mum told me about a witch who once—“

“Honestly, Ron!”

Ron stuffed a roll in his mouth and tried to continue. “Yeah, mum said that—“

She gave Ron her best exasperated look. “Pass me the salad, would you, Harry?” Hermione said, purposely cutting across Ron.

Hermione scooped the greens onto her plate and speared some with her fork. When she bit down, tiny… _squeaky_ screams erupted from her mouth. She froze.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”

She grabbed her napkin and spit out her mouthful of food.

“The…the…salad is screaming…” she managed.

“Beg your pardon?”

“The salad, it’s…it’s…alive.”

“Fabulous. You’ve both gone barmy,” Ron said, reaching for yet another roll.

Hermione poked the greens left on her plate with her finger and recoiled. _She could hear them._ She looked across at Harry; he raised an eyebrow and touched a leaf, too.

“Can you hear them?”

“Yeah.” Harry said, his eyes wide.

“They’re terrified.”

“Wouldn’t you be if you were about to be eaten?”

“You two have been hanging around Loony Lovegood a bit too much,” Ron said, reaching into a large bowl for an apple. He took a bite.

Suddenly, Ron sprung up and out of his bench—backing away from the table with one big push and spitting out the bite of apple into his hand. “Oi! It’s yelling at me! It’s screaming, ‘I’m being ripped apart!’”

Harry and Hermione exchanged a glance.

Harry reached for a banana from another fruit bowl and started to peel it. He dropped it so abruptly, Hermione gave a start.

The colour drained from Harry’s face.

“What did it say?” Hermione asked.

Harry cleared his throat, scrunched up his face, and said in a high-pitched voice, “’Ah!!! My skin, my skin!!! The agony!!!’”

“Sweet Merlin,” Ron whimpered. “Do you mind if we get out of here?”

o0o0o

The three abandoned the rest of their lunch and walked to the courtyard; Hermione was careful not to touch anything green.

“So, all three of us can hear plants?” Harry asked, settling down on a stone bench.

“Not all plants,” Ron said, rotating his wand in his hand, “just ones that are still alive.”

“I think it’s only when we touch them to our skin,” Hermione said.

“Or our teeth,” Ron said shakily.

“Or our teeth,” Hermione conceded. “I think we’ll be okay if we avoid contact.”

“Yeah,” echoed Ron shakily, “if we avoid contact.”

“Okay, let’s think about this,” she said. “It started directly after Potions, right? Do you think it has something to do with what Neville made in class? Remember the green grass odor we all smelled that was coming from his cauldron? Maybe this is an after-effect.”

“Certainly a possibility,” Harry conceded.

“We need to find Neville.”

o0o0o

Apparently, Neville was camped out in—of all places—the Hogwarts greenhouse.

“Hullo,” he called when they entered. “I wondered when you guys would get here.”

Hermione ran her hands over the leaves of the potted plants, careful to avoid the Venomous Tentacula. The greenhouse chatter sounded like the Quiddich Pitch during a particularly contentious game between Gryffindor and Slytherin: noisy, unruly, and petulant.

_…hey! get your leaf outta my sun!…help! I’m stuck…move over, would ya! you’re blocking my light!...thirsty…so very thirsty…why is this pot so small?..._

“So you guys can hear them, too? Isn’t it fabulous?” Neville asked, his eyes bright with wonder.

“Fabulous?” echoed Ron. “Not what I’d call fabulous. More like creepy.”

“Apparently not all the comments are directed at us. It seems the plants communicate with each other,” Hermione said.

Neville smiled rapturously. “It’s true. I’ve already discovered that the Sopophorous despise being planted near Mimbulus Mimbletonia—the plant my Gran gave me.”

“Fascinating, I’m sure,” Ron said sardonically.

“I’m sure it _is_ fascinating, Neville,” Hermione said, gifting Ron a dark look, “but we’re going to leave, now. We just wanted to see if you were all right.”

Neville’s smile widened even further. “I am.”

o0o0o

“If the greenhouse sounds like this, imagine what we could hear in the Forbidden Forest!” Hermione said breathlessly as the greenhouse door swung shut behind them.

“No,” said Harry and Ron in unison.

“But we may never get an opportunity like this again! Imagine what we could learn!”

“Not a chance,” said Ron.

“Absolutely not,” said Harry.

“Wait. What if were like this forever?” Ron mused, his eyes growing wide. “And I can never eat an apple again? Or a banana? And what about watermelon?”

“Relax. I’m sure Snape will know what to do.”

“Blimey, Harry, it’s not like I’ve had voices in my head before. At least you have experience with it.”

Harry frowned. “Like I said, I’m sure Snape will be able to fix it.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna tell him?”

They both looked at Hermione. She sighed. There was never any question it would be her, was there?

o0o0o

Harry wrangled the heavy door to Snape’s office open, and the three made their way inside.

“Professor Snape,” Hermione said in greeting.

“Yes, Miss Granger?” he responded, eyeing Harry and Ron suspiciously as he looked up from his desk.

“The other day during Potions class, you asked Neville to brew Regerminating Potion,” she said as steadily as she could, “and you asked me to brew Chelidonium Miniscula.”

“I am more than aware of the assignments I give to my students,” Professor Snape drawled in a bored voice.

“I believe there was some confusion during class and Neville, well, wound up brewing a combination of the two.”

Professor Snape pursed his lips. “Is there a point to your blathering, Miss Granger? If so, please do get on with it.”

“The potion that Neville inadvertently created produced a green vapor. I believe inhaling that vapor has given us the ability to hear plants communicate.”

“Indeed?” Professor Snape raised an eyebrow and said nothing for a moment.

“Miss Granger, you were brewing the Chelidonium Miniscula…” he said, more to himself than Hermione. He rose from his desk and started pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. “Mr Longbottom was brewing Regerminating Potion…” He stopped and looked at Hermione. “Miss Granger, at what point do you believe the instructions were switched?”

“After I added the Motherwort to mine and Neville added the Knarl quills to his.”

The Potions Professor seemed to be contemplating something. “Interesting,” he finally said. “Come back tomorrow evening at this time and I will have a remedy.”

“Tomorrow evening? You mean, we have to live with this until tomorrow evening?” Ron squeaked.

“Mr Weasley.” The professor pursed his lips in annoyance. “Might I suggest that if you had stayed at your own table—as you were supposed to—and in front of your own cauldron, which contained your own deplorable excuse for a potion, you would not currently be a victim of Mr Longbottom’s grave inadequacies.”

“How am I going to eat a proper dinner? How am I doing to sleep tonight?” Ron whined.

“One more word, Mr Weasley, and I may inadvertently forget to make enough counter-agent for you.”

Ron made a noise like a squeal but didn’t say anything more.

“Rest assured, I will be able to counter the vapor’s effects with a potion based on the Muffling Draught.” Professor Snape walked toward the door in the back of the classroom. “You are dismissed,” he said, opening the door and not looking back.  

“You have to admit, the man is brilliant,” Hermione said, her lips curling into a small smile.

Ron huffed a laugh. “Merlin, Hermione, the man’s a contender for scariest bloke in the school. And that includes the ghosts.”

o0o0o

Neville was late.

They had told Neville, of course, that the Potions Professor was brewing something to relieve them of their newly acquired skill; Neville had reacted strangely to the news, frowning to the point of tears, as if he was about to lose his best friend.

Not that Neville’s tardiness was at all surprising—it was just that Hermione thought he would have made a special effort to arrive on time, knowing Professor Snape had made a special effort to brew an antidote so quickly.

Perhaps he wasn’t even going to show up.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione stood in front of Professor Snape’s desk; four vials of bright yellow liquid glistened in the torchlight, one earmarked for each of the four _victims_ —as Professor Snape put it—of Neville’s unauthorized concoction. 

“Once you finish this potion, the effects of Mr Longbottom’s accident will begin to diminish. I estimate they will be completely gone in a week to ten days.”

Well, the sooner she could eat salad and fruit again, the better. Hermione grabbed the glass, threw her head back, and downed it in one long swallow. She watched, amused, as Harry and Ron eyed the yellow liquid warily; they both reached out slowly, simultaneously, picked up their respective doses, and began to drink. They looked terrified.

Seriously, did they think a Hogwarts professor was going to poison them?

“Thank you, Professor,” Hermione said, smiling, even before the boys were done.

As they turned to leave, a breathless Neville sprinted in, skidding to a stop in front of Professor Snape’s desk.

“Ah, Mr Longbottom.” The Potions Professor indicated the lone filled glass that remained. “I see you’ve arrived to claim your antidote.”

“Well…” Neville said, swallowing loudly. “Actually, I’ve thought about it and I’m quite all right, thank you, sir.”

Professor Snape raised an eyebrow. “You do not wish to take the counter agent?”

“No, sir,” Neville said in a trembling voice. “I mean to say that I don’t mind the voices, Professor.”

The professor was silent for a moment as Neville twitched nervously. “Very well,” he said finally.  

Neville’s eyes widened. “Thank you, sir.”

“Admittedly, you may have stumbled on something quite extraordinary. I will be sharing your findings with Professor Sprout. I suspect she will have questions for you.”

“Of course, sir.”

“You may take the antidote with you should you change your mind.”

“One more thing, Mr Longbottom.” He gifted Neville a grand smirk. “Even though my specialty is not Divination, let me assure you that your future lies solidly in Herbology, not Potions.”

Neville smiled and scampered away, exiting the classroom with the boys.

Hermione met Professor Snape’s eyes. “You know, Professor, I believe Neville might make an excellent Herbology Professor one day.”

His lips twitched into an almost-smile, his dark eyes glittering. “I don’t necessarily disagree, Miss Granger.”

**Author's Note:**

> All things Harry Potter belong to J. K. Rowling.


End file.
